


Anyone but You

by hotarubi_e



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Don't hold your breath's for a happy ending, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I can't help it I'm a dramatic person, I'm the queen of bittersweet, Keith's still a dropout, Lots of drama, No one will ever convince me that Keith doesn't love Cryptids (especially mothman), Pidge and Keith are Cryptid nuts, Probably a fair bit of angst, Salt Lord Pidge, angsty keith, shiro is keith's legal guardian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotarubi_e/pseuds/hotarubi_e
Summary: ‘Okay, Pidge seriously, what the actual cheese are we doing here?!’ Lance snapped, voice barely a whisper as he followed the tiny shadow of Pidge through the supposed-to-be-locked door of an abandoned hotel on the edges of town. It was four in the morning - basically a time that didn’t exist in Lance’s usual world - and Lance was having far too many flashbacks to the terrible B-movie horror films Pidge always made him watch when they spent their nights at Lance’s apartment. Hearing a low snicker from somewhere in the darkness ahead of him, he briefly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end before realising it had come from Pidge themselves.‘’The actual cheese’?’ Pidge grinned, stopping to turn and face Lance, one eyebrow raised well into their hairline. ‘What are you, five?’-Or the au where Lance and Pidge's alien hunts lead to meeting Keith in a rather dramatic way, and tangle the group in a case of mysterious deaths, tested loyalties and more than a few awkward encounters with the police.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first posted fic in A LOT of years, and it's safe to say I'm a little on the nervous side! (Confidence is key? Who the hell said that?) I would say that this story is gonna be a reasonable length, but really.. who the bloody hell am I kidding? This is gonna be LONG (I cannot write short. Cannot cannot cannot. How do you do that??). And probably filled with drama and injuries because apparently I like to put my characters through the ringer. Sorry. (Not sorry.)
> 
> Also, sorry for inconsistencies in terms and stuff - I'm British, but I tried writing using American terms for things where I could remember. I probably missed loads of stuff though.
> 
> Also also, apparently I'm incapable of typing 'Keith' on the first try (I always type Keither.. no idea why..) so please tell me if I missed fixing any odd little subconscious attempts to rename the lovely little emo.

‘Okay, Pidge _seriously_ , what the actual _cheese_ are we doing here?!’ Lance snapped, voice barely a whisper as he followed the tiny shadow of Pidge through the supposed-to-be-locked door of an abandoned hotel on the edges of town. It was four in the morning - basically a time that didn’t exist in Lance’s usual world - and Lance was having far too many flashbacks to the terrible B-movie horror films Pidge always made him watch when they spent their nights at Lance’s apartment. Hearing a low snicker from somewhere in the darkness ahead of him, he briefly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end before realising it had come from Pidge themselves. 

 

‘’The actual cheese’?’ Pidge grinned, stopping to turn and face Lance, one eyebrow raised well into their hairline. ‘What are you, five?’

 

‘Shut _up!’_ He squealed, flapping his hands nervously as he shot to Pidge’s side. He may have been furious at them for dragging him along, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to stick closer to their side. If he _was_ going to be brutally murdered by some angry spectre, at least if he was next to Pidge they’d go down with him. _Maybe that’s not nice,_ he thought bitterly, _but who cares, it’s their fault anyway!_ Pidge laughed again, louder this time, so that it echoed back to them from the walls, sending another more violent shiver up Lance’s spine. ‘Now is _not_ the time to be analysing my speech patterns, Pidge - you _should_ be telling my why the hell you decided you wanted to get cosy with me in the middle of some reject horror movie set!’

 

‘Okay Lance, for one, you couldn’t _pay_ me to ‘get cosy’ with an amoeba like you -‘ Lance scowled harshly, but decided to bite back his remark for the time being. ‘ - and for _two,_ this is no reject horror movie set: this is the last place there was a recorded sighting of the Balmera,’ 

 

‘The Bal- _Pidge!_ What the quiznak were you _thinking?!_ ’ Lance felt all the colour drain from his face as his knees began to shake, an utterly terrified sweat seeping from his pores. He gulped heavily, wishing more than anything that he could run away. If it wasn’t for the debilitating jitters currently wracking his muscles, he would have. 

 

The Balmera was a local urban legend - a giant stone-like monster reported to live off of the life energy of those it came across, draining them of every drop until it’s victims shrivelled up like prunes. During his freshman year of high school, the legend had been particularly popular, and various pictures of horrifically ‘dehydrated’ bodies had been passed around the school like black market currency. Lance had, to his never ending regret, also seen them. He could safely say that they had scarred him for life, and now Pidge was making him relive the trauma in the worst possible way. 

 

‘Oh calm down, you giant foetus,’ they quipped, huffing as they turned away from him, fed up of looking at his scared expression. ‘It’s been like, what? Two weeks since the sighting? Chances are it’s moved on already looking for better feeding grounds. The likelihood of us getting killed are decently slim,’

 

Lance heard a strange noise that sounded like a cross between an indigent hamster and a frog, before realising it had come from his own throat. Taking a few experimental, nervous steps after Pidge who had begun to move again, he shook his head in resignation. ‘’Decently slim’ isn’t exactly comforting when you’re talking about my _life_ , Pidge,’ he sighed, throwing his hands out. ‘I can’t die! I’m going to be a _star_! How is everyone supposed to appreciate my genius if I’m dead before I’ve given them the chance to see it?’

 

‘Don’t worry about that - people can’t see something that’s not there,’ Pidge grinned, casting a brief glance back over their shoulder before turning the corner into what looked like the main hallway. It was wide, with a long staircase leading off from the centre. A small squeak escaped their throat, and they ran towards it, leaving Lance in their wake. ‘It was up there!’ they yelled, pointing towards the first floor, barely visible through the dense gloom. Lance merely glared past Pidge’s finger, feeling every ounce of hope he had of ever seeing his home again disappear like snow in a bonfire.  ‘It was seen going across the top of the stair case, before the photographer followed it into the east wing! They lost it in one of the rooms - this place is like a _maze_ \- but they got like, thirty photos of it or something. Most were really blurry and completely unusable, but there are three or four that show it perfectly. Honestly, Lance, they’re some of the greatest things I’ve ever -‘ they stopped talking abruptly, foot hovering over a step, as it occurred to them there was no sound of Lance following. Turning around, they frowned as they caught sight of Lance stood stock still at least ten feet away, hands cupped together over his chest, torch hidden in the folds of his jacket. ‘Lance?’

 

No response. 

 

‘ _Lance!_ ’ 

 

‘W-what?’ he stuttered, neck shaking like a bobble head as he moved to look up at them. Pidge sighed dramatically, lowering their own torch to the floor. 

 

‘Are you _going_ to follow me? Or am I leaving you there? In the dark. Surrounded by shadows and weird things. On your own,’

 

That seemed to get his attention, and Pidge smiled as he squealed and ran after them. 

 

‘Honestly, Lance, you really are surprisingly cowardly given your never ending spew of over-confidence,’

 

‘I thought we’ve been through this before,’ Lance almost cried, taking hold of the back of Pidge’s shirt. ‘that’s just a defence mechanism designed to make people think I’m not scared shitless of like, emotions and stuff,’

 

‘Well no, we haven’t been through that before, but thanks for finally explaining your obviously deep and crippling neuroses and why you’re such an unbearable pain in the ass,’ 

 

‘ _Pidge._ ’ 

 

‘I’d always wondered why you’re so bipolar with confidence, but I guess if it’s all faked that explains it pretty well. I can’t wait to tell Allura,’ 

 

‘ _PIDGE._ ’

 

‘What? Fine, fine, I’ll stop,’ they smirked, stopping again at the top of the stairs so they could smile darkly into Lance’s face. ‘But seriously, quit being such a scaredy cat, you’re bumming me out,’

 

Lance shifted uncomfortably on his feet, face shooting from terrified to indigent glare in a second. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m bumming you out? My bad, Pidge. _So. Sorry!_ I’m only scared for my _life!’_

 

‘Yeah, yeah, keep walking Mr.,’ 

 

Turning away from Lance again, Pidge refused to acknowledge the high pitched noises of protest he was making, choosing instead to continue on with their mission. Once they reached the first of what looked like endless doors, they reached into the depths of their pockets and pulled out a map, scanning over it under the light of their torch. 

 

‘It looks like this way,’ they said, shining the light on the third door to their right. Lance gulped painfully behind them, a thick feeling of dread welling in his stomach. 

 

‘Pidge, I get that you’re like, _really_ into conspiracies and shit, but I seriously do not want to be here. No sir-ey, not one _bit_ , so can we _please_ just like, go home?’ he begged, hovering nervously in the doorway. It looked like the room beyond was just another throughway into yet more maze-like corridors of rooms. And it looked as though Pidge was planning on going into them with no intention of replying. After a few more desperate yells, Lance finally gave in, hopping about before he ran as fast as his sluggish feet would carry him back to Pidge’s side. 

 

‘Ah, there you are,’ they smiled as he skidded to a halt. ‘I was beginning to wonder where you’d ended up. Don’t wander off, okay? This place is crazy complicated, even with a map,’

 

‘Wha- wait, _me? I_ wandered off?? Oh. My. God.’ Lance was beginning to think that he might actually hate Pidge, more than just a little bit. For the next several rooms, he simply followed them silently, eyes darting from corner to corner, chasing shadows in his mind as they seemed to change and morph into various deadly shapes. Of course, Pidge seemed totally oblivious to the obvious - in Lance’s mind - dangers rapidly closing in around them, and Lance felt, in some deep corner of his brain, obligated to remain alert. 

 

As he followed them into what looked like the last room in the maze, he felt another shiver run up his back, and hugged his arms to himself closely, casting his eyes restlessly over the room. Much like the others, it was far from empty - every corner was filled with piles of junk, forgotten over the years, and left to accumulate dust and dirt and other things that Lance did not want to contemplate. Pushed up against the back wall was what appeared to be an old bed with wheels, the mattress tattered and stained with damp, the wooden frame falling apart in places. To Lance’s horror, Pidge made a direct b-line for it, before plonking themselves heavily onto it. 

 

‘Pidge, what are you doing?! Don’t sit on that! It could be cursed!’

 

‘I thought you didn’t believe in curses?’ they asked, smirking devilishly. Lance grumbled for a moment before huffing and turning away.

 

‘I don’t - I guess you could take it as evidence of the fact that I _care_ about whether or not you die!’ 

 

Pidge laughed, swinging their legs absently as they considered the map in their hands. ‘I think we made a wrong turn somewhere,’ they said, frowning slightly as they traced the lines of rooms with their eyes. ‘We’re in the east wing according to the map, but I don’t remember the account saying they got this far,’

 

‘Alright, good, then that means we can go back, right?’ Lance asked, taking a tentative step towards Pidge with the intention of grabbing their arm and forcibly hauling them from the room. But Lance didn’t want to go any closer to the old bed, and instead settled for dancing nervously on the balls of his feet. Pidge shook their head, refusing to look up from the map.

 

‘I don’t think so,’ they said, shifting the map around to get a better look. ‘I think we should just follow it through to the right and see where it takes us,’ they pointed towards the second door leading from the room they had just left. Lance sighed, beaten. 

 

‘Whatever, but if I die, it’s all on you,’ he hissed, miserable. ‘I’ll haunt you, and I _swear_ you’ll never find what I do with all your stupid science-y shit - I’ll hide it _so good_ even your grandchildren won’t find it,’

 

‘Lance, you wouldn’t be able to keep something from me if your life depended on it,’

 

‘Well, right now it kinda does!’

 

‘I’m just gonna pretend that made proper sense, and ignore everything else you say from now on unless its an actually useful suggestion,’

 

‘Going home _is_ useful! Useful for keeping us alive -!’ 

 

He would have gone on to tell them all about the wonderful benefits of breathing, and why Pidge’s abject disinterest in Lance’s continued existence was a worrying trait for a supposed best friend to have, if it hadn’t been for the distant screech coming from further within the maze. It would amaze Lance later - at the present moment he was too concerned with the rapid increase in his heart rate - that Pidge actually looked up, a startled look flitting through their eyes before they settled on unnerved. 

 

‘What.. was that?’ they asked, turning their head to lock eyes with Lance, who had frozen into a relief akin to the perfect depiction of terror. He would have replied, but for the complete halting of all bodily functions, breathing included. 

 

Another, smaller screech followed, this one succeeded by what sounded like a voice, deep and filled with malice drifting towards them. Lance’s hands began to shake, a slow tremble starting in his finger tips, before making its way up his arms. They really were going to die. There was something else in the hotel with them, and they were both going to die there, huddled in a corner against an old rotting bed. Lance couldn’t help but feel just a tiny bit pathetic. 

 

When another wave of sound reached them, Lance felt all of his strength give up the ghost, and faster than he would have thought possible, he jumped to Pidge’s side, his hands wrapping tightly around their arm.

 

‘Woah, Lance that hurts, cut it out!’ Pidge hissed, digging their fingers into the backs of Lance’s hands in an effort to get them off. Lance merely shook his head, far too frightened now to speak. Another strange whimper found them, and Pidge’s hands froze mid scratch, their heart thumping in their chest. But there was something odd about the sound. The more Pidge listened, the more they realised that it sounded… hurt. ‘Lance, we should go and look,’ they said, shifting their hands so that they held Lance by the shoulders. The poor boy looked completely dead in the distant light from the torches, long forgotten on the floor. His eyes had turned blank, glossed over like a ventriloquist doll’s. ‘Lance!’

 

‘H-huh?’ Lance mumbled, Pidge’s voice finally seeming to break through to him. ‘W-what did you say?’

 

‘I _said_ we should go and have a look! We can’t know what that noise is unless we go - what if it’s the Balmera and we miss it?’

 

‘That’s.. exactly why I’m staying _here_ , Pidge,’ Lance whined, clutching his hands to his shirt desperately. ‘I don’t wanna find out if it’s the Balmera - I’d rather stay breathing, thank you!’

 

‘But don’t you think it sounds… I dunno, hurt or something?’ Pidge asked desperately, trying to reason with him. This really was the last time they took Lance on a mission with them - in the future they would just have to rely on Coran, or possibly find a new friend who _wasn’t_ a complete and total loser. Lance shuddered briefly as he glared up at them, eyebrows creasing into a look of barely concealed fury.

 

‘Oh, so you’re worrying about the goddamned quiznaking _Balmera_ now, but still can’t quite convince yourself to care about your _best friend?!_ ’

 

‘I thought Hunk was your best friend,’ Pidge said absently, turning their head slightly to get a better listen at the soft whimpering sounds fluttering through the maze. It really didn’t sound right, and something about it peaked Pidge’s curiosity. Sliding from off of the bed, they grabbed Lance by the hand and tugged, motioning to move towards the door.

 

‘Wh- he is, but that’s beside the point! What are you doing? I’m not going that way!’ he spluttered, pulling hard against Pidge as they dragged him ever closer to the source of the sound. ‘Didn’t all those horror movies teach you anything? Only the soon-to-be-dead idiots go _towards_ the creepy sounds!’ 

 

‘Well, then I guess it’s good we’re not in a horror movie then, isn’t it?’ Pidge said, voice firm and jaw set. They weren’t leaving without at least some kind of evidence of the Balmera. The opportunity was just too good to miss - it would be a mark of shame to leave empty handed. ‘Now get your useless ass moving, Lancelot, we’ve got a Balmera to catch!’

 

Whining, Lance followed meekly behind Pidge, letting them drag him by the wrist back through the rooms they had gone through. It really wasn’t particularly fair, Lance thought, that just because Hunk threw up whenever he got scared, he was allowed to stay home. 

 

When they got back out to the main upper corridor, Pidge paused, listening hard for any sign of the Balmera. It had gone eerily quiet after a few minutes of searching, and they were beginning to wonder if they had missed it. 

 

‘Damn, where did it go?’ they asked, letting go of Lance’s wrist to walk a little closer to the stair case - maybe it had gone down in search of food? They glanced over the edge, squinting into the darkness. ‘I can’t see anything, this is useless,’

 

‘You _have_ a torch, Pidge,’ Lance whispered, training his own on Pidge’s back. He didn’t want to loose sight of them - they felt like his only chance of survival right now. Pidge huffed dismissively, repositioning themselves a little closer to the banister. 

 

‘So should I shine it down and scare the Balmera off? ‘Cause _that_ would be a great idea, thank you Lance. Your contribution is sparkling, as always,’

 

‘Oh shut your face, Midget,’ Lance snapped, before going quiet. It had occurred to him that the louder he spoke, the more likely he was to draw the attention of a hungry, human eating rock-beast. Pidge, too, seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and they both settled into silence together. After a few moments of nothingness, Lance sighed, boredom growing in his gut alongside the ever present terror. Shifting his arm to the side, he flashed the light of his torch down the corridor to his left, considering the doorways there. There were at least ten, all plunging into thick, impenetrable darkness. The thought of what might lurk within made him shudder uncontrollably.

 

‘Lance! Turn your torch off for a sec,’ Pidge whispered over their shoulder, startling Lance into dropping his torch on the ground. It flickered for a moment before going out. He guessed he had broken the bulb. ‘Or do that, that works too,’ 

 

‘Why are we turning our only lights off, Pidge?’ he asked, squinting through the now complete blackness. Pidge waved a hand, telling him silently to be quiet. Complying, he sighed again, and returned his attention to the darkened doorways to his left. 

 

He felt his blood run cold. Something had moved. 

 

It was difficult to see in the gloom, but a shadow had definitely shifted near one of the doorways, slinking out from the dark and into the corridor they stood in. Squinting, Lance leaned forwards a little, angling his head to get a better look. He squealed as it moved again, coming closer this time, and felt his heart lurch into his throat. Swallowing hard, he waved a hand towards Pidge’s back, desperately trying to get their attention. 

 

‘P-Pidge..’

 

‘Not now, Lance, can’t you see I’m busy?’ they whispered back, not bothering to turn their head towards him. 

 

The shadow moved again, seeming to stumble a little as it traversed the corridor. 

 

‘P-Pidge, seriously, w-we gotta go.. t-there’s.. there’s something.. -‘

 

‘ _Not now,_ Lance!’

 

It was getting closer. Lance could see the mass of dark blackness surrounding it’s head, bowed dangerously as it looked at them. He whimpered pitifully, flailing his arms in an attempt to make Pidge look. They were completely disinterested, sparing no thought for Lance. 

 

‘Pidge, I mean it - _we have to go now!_ ’

 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I can’t see anything!’

 

‘ _Pidge!_ ’

 

It was almost as though his legs moved on impulse, completely against his command. As he saw the shadow bypass where he stood and make a direct b-line for Pidge, Lance’s muscles deigned to move on their own, flinging him forwards and into it’s path. Before he was even fully aware of the fact that he was moving, he felt himself connect with it, his arms wrapping around the Balmera’s waist, as he struggled with it, pushing it away from Pidge. 

 

He heard the sound of the air being knocked out of it’s lungs in a grunt, using the momentum to his advantage as he shoved hard towards the stairs. He could hear Pidge yelling his name, having finally turned to look, but he didn’t stop to listen to what else they were saying: if he let go of the Balmera now, it would kill them both, and despite his earlier resentment, he couldn’t bare the thought of Pidge getting hurt because of him. 

 

Lance hissed as the Balmera dug it’s hands into his sides, gripping hard enough to bruise, but he bore with it, pushing the growing pain to the back of his mind in order to keep it contained. He spun them, the Balmera’s back now to Pidge, and glanced at them nervously, catching the terrified look in their eye. They were dangerously close to the top of the stairs, the Balmera’s right foot hanging over a void of nothingness.

 

‘Lance!’ Pidge shouted, gripping the bannister hard. ‘Lance that’s not -!’

 

Lance felt his fingers loosen, their strength waining against the overwhelming force of the Balmera. He shoved his shoulder into it’s chest, eliciting another, higher pitched grunt - one that sounded distinctly un-monster-like. He could tell when the Balmera’s other foot slipped from the top step, it’s weight hanging down on Lance’s arms. He was the only thing holding it up. He let go.

 

‘- _That’s not a Balmera!’_

 

Pidge’s cry was punctuated by the horrible sounds of a body tumbling like a lead weight down the staircase, intermittent pained, strangled, _human_ screams accompanying each thud and crack. Until, after what felt like an eternity, the being Lance had flung down the stairs came to a resounding stop, splayed out on the floor below like a rag doll. 

 

For several moments, neither Pidge nor Lance dared move, both staring in horror at the body below, before Pidge seemed to lurch forwards, their tiny legs darting down the staircase as fast as they were capable. 

 

‘ _Lance what did you do?!_ ’ they screamed, whipping their neck round to glare accusatorially up at him. For another beat Lance found it impossible to move, but then he too was running, cascading down the stairs to Pidge’s side where they sat hunched by the too-still figure. 

 

‘Oh my god..’ He mumbled, hands shaking as he stared down at the unconscious face before him. ‘Oh my god, oh my _god_!’ He felt like throwing up. For the first time in his life, he finally understood what it must feel like to be Hunk. His stomach flipped and rolled, and he felt a dank sweat spread over his entire body. 

 

It wasn’t a Balmera that he had thrown down the stairs. It was a man, roughly the same age as Lance himself. 

 

The dark mass he had seen around the head was in actual fact a black mullet, shading a pale, lean face that was now splashed with a light covering of blood. By his head lay a large pair of over-ear headphones, the wire tangled around his neck precariously, plugged into on the other end what looked like a black box with strange flashing lights on the bottom. 

 

‘Oh quiznak.. Lance.. is he.. is he dead?’ Pidge’s voice was barely a whisper any more, their hands shaking softly as they fluttered around the man’s face. They looked up at Lance, eyes gaping. All Lance could do was stare back, horrified.

 

He shook his head, unsure, but forced himself to focus. Falling apart now was _not_ the correct option. Holding out a trembling hand, he pressed his fingertips into the crook of the man’s neck, falling forwards in relief as he found the surprisingly strong pulse beating beneath. 

 

‘Oh thank Alfor, he’s alive!’ He yelped, doing a small fist pump before returning to the task at hand. They had to asses the injuries the fall had caused. From what Lance could see - with the help of Pidge’s torch light - were a bloody cut on the back of his head, bruises forming up and down his stomach and back, and general cuts and grazes littering almost his entire body. The most worrying, however, was the man’s right arm, which seemed to be jutting out at an unnatural angle just below the elbow. It was pretty safe to say that it was broken. 

 

Gulping hard, Lance prepared to slap the man’s cheek to try and wake him, when a small groan startled him into looking down. The man’s eyelids were fluttering wildly, and his head flopped over to the side as his eyebrows crumpled in pain. 

 

‘Hey!’ Pidge cried, leaning forwards to get a better look at his face. ‘Hey, can you hear me? Are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere?’

 

‘Jeez, Pidge, take it easy,’ Lance hissed, pushing them back slightly before they could headbutt the  poor guy in their enthusiasm. ‘The dude just fell down like, a gajillion stairs, of course he isn’t ‘alright’,’ 

 

‘Yeah, and _who_ was the one who pushed him, again?’

 

‘Shut your goddamned quiznak, Pidge! I thought he was the Balmera! _I was trying to save you!_ ’

 

‘You did a truly brilliant job, Lancelot, I’m proud,’

 

Another groan interrupted their argument, making them both look down in sync. The man’s eyes had fluttered open and closed a few more times, before finally settling on a low squint, pupils pinpricks as they tried to make out the faces above him. Whimpering quietly, he seemed to look between Lance and Pidge dazedly, when in a rush, his eyes focused, and with a sharp, terrified in take of breath, he pushed himself up and shot backwards, away from them both. Lance dove away, startled, but froze midway as the man screamed in pain and dropped back to the ground, clutching his broken arm uselessly to his chest. He had leant on it in his desperation to get away.

 

‘Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re okay,’ Lance said, holding out his hands in reassurance. ‘We’re not gonna hurt you,’

 

‘Yeah, cause _Lance_ has already done that,’ Pidge muttered, glaring darkly at their friend. Lance brushed them off with a disinterested wave of his hand as he shuffled forwards, approaching the stranger as though he were a scared animal.

 

‘We wanna help - I wanna make up for shoving you down the stairs,’ he laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry about that - I thought you were a Balmera trying to eat Pidge,’

 

The man’s eyes shifted restlessly, a small moan escaping his throat as he looked up at Lance. ‘Y-you saw it?’ he asked, voice quiet and unsteady. Lance frowned, not quite sure he was following.

 

‘Huh?’

 

‘The Balmera.. y-you saw it?’

 

‘Wait.. you’re after the Balmera too?’ Pidge asked, leaning forwards excitedly, anxiety over the stranger’s injuries seemingly forgotten. Lance huffed, unimpressed.

 

‘ _Seriously,_ Pidge? _That’s_ what you care about now?’

 

‘Oh be quiet, dorkazoid, you’re the one who caused all this in the first place,’

 

‘For quiznak’s sake, Pidge, I said I was _sorry!_ ’ 

 

‘D-did you really see it?’ The man asked, wavering slightly as he sat back up, right arm still pressed tightly against his body. His eyes seemed to glisten strangely in the light from Pidge’s torch, giving him a half crazed look. ‘The Balmera? Where was it?’

 

‘Woah, take it easy, dude,’ Lance said, rushing forwards as the man lost his balance and began to fall. He cried out again, having jarred his arm, and allowed himself to be caught in Lance’s arms. ‘Why don’t we start with something simple, like your name?’

 

‘M-my name?’ he stuttered, head spinning like a top. He blinked thickly a few times, trying in vain to clear his mind. ‘I, uh.. m-my name’s.. ahhh..’ he slumped further down, fully supported now by Lance’s hands and nothing else. 

 

‘Hey, Lance, I think we should get him to a hospital - he seems pretty dazed, and that’s a lot of blood,’ Pidge said, pointing nervously at the ever gushing wound spilling more and more blood down the man’s collar. Lance nodded quickly, shifting his weight so he could slip his arms beneath the stranger’s shoulders. 

 

‘Hold on, dude, we’ll get you help in no time at all, ‘kay?’ 

 

’N-no, wait.. I- I gotta find it.. gotta find the Balmera..’ he mumbled, pushing weakly against Lance’s chest as he tried to pull him to a stand. Lance couldn’t help but be surprised at the drastic change in strength - the guy had been so strong when they were fighting at the top of the stairs, and now he was equivalent to a kitten. 

 

‘No you don’t, mate, you gotta come with us, alright? You hit your head pretty hard, you don’t know what you’re talking about,’

 

‘No! No, I gotta find it, gotta know if it’s.. if it’s.. it’s something.. I-I don’t..’

 

‘Hey, Lance, I’ll go get the car, where are your keys?’ Pidge asked, holding out their hand as they shot to their feet. Shoving his hand awkwardly into his pocket, Lance pulled out his car keys and threw them to Pidge, shooting them a quick grin in the process. Turning back to the stranger in his arms, he sighed dramatically as he swept him up off the floor, carrying him princess style.

 

‘W-what are you.. doing? L-let me down.. I gotta..’

 

‘You don’t gotta do anything, buddy,’ Lance huffed, readjusting his hold to carry him evenly. ‘All you gotta do now is let us get you to a hospital - it’s the least we could do, yeah?’

 

‘My bike.. I can’t leave my bike..’ he sighed, seeming to lose strength as his head flopped back against Lance’s chest. 

 

‘Oh, so you remember you have a bike, but you don’t remember your name? Real helpful, thanks,’

 

‘…Keith…’

 

‘Huh?’ Lance asked, quirking his eyebrow. 

 

‘M-my name.. it’s Keith..’ 

 

‘Okay, Keith, nice to meet you. I’m Lance - the little one’s Pidge. We’ll come back and get your bike later, ‘kay? Right now we gotta get you help,’

 

Keith grumbled slightly but didn’t complain further as he allowed Lance to carry him out. His eyes fluttered open and closed again a few more times, and it looked to Lance like he was struggling to stay awake. Half remembering something from his high school first aid class, he jolted his arm sharply, wincing slightly as Keith whimpered in pain. It might have hurt him, but it at least kept him from falling any further asleep. 

 

‘Stay awake, Keithy, buddy. Can’t sleep if you’ve hit your head, you know? I thought that was basic knowledge?’

 

‘..S’not my name..’ Keith sighed, nuzzling his face a little closer into Lance’s shirt. It smelled almost familiar somehow, and was oddly comforting. 

 

‘Guess it’s a good thing I don’t care, then, huh?’ Lance grinned, pushing the door to the hotel open with his foot. They were hit by a wave of cold air, making Keith groan and shift closer again into Lance’s arms. ‘Nearly there,’ he said, eyeing Pidge a little way off, waving their arms frantically. The car was running already, lights illuminating a path through the trees. ‘Just hold on a little longer,’

 

Once they got Keith to the car, Lance slid him onto the back seat, leaning him gently against the door before letting Pidge climb in after. ‘Don’t let him sleep, Pidge - I can’t go down for accidental murder. I’m too special for prison,’

 

‘Too skinny, more like - you’d get eaten alive. Also, it’s manslaughter, idiot, not ‘accidental murder’,’ 

 

‘Whatever, see if I care. And I’m not skinny! I’m _streamlined,’_

 

‘Is that what your mother calls it?’ Pidge winked, enjoying the faint blush making it’s way over Lance’s cheeks in the rear view mirror. Sniffing proudly, Lance put the car in drive and made for the main road. 

 

After nearly ten minutes of driving, Lance heard an unnerving sound from the back of the car, and glanced in the rear view mirror to see Keith startling upright, eyes wide and bulging. 

 

‘Hey, Pidge, what’s he doing?’ he asked anxiously, eyes flickering back and forth from Keith to the road. ‘Keith, buddy, you okay?’

 

‘P-pull over..’ Keith mumbled, left hand flapping in front of his face. Lance noticed that it had lost even more colour since they got into the car. ‘Pull over right now..’

 

‘No can do, amigo, there’s no hard shoulder for another -‘

 

‘Pull over _now!_ I’m gonna.. -‘

 

He didn’t make it to the end of his sentence. Eyes widening even further, he lurched forwards, hand clasping to his mouth as a wave of vomit made its way passed his lips. However in Keith’s eagerness to move, he ended up pressed tightly to Lance’s shoulder, puking straight into his lap.  Lance screeched, feeling his own stomach roil in response, and had to fight to keep the car in the correct lane. Thankfully, Pidge had at some point positioned a plastic bag they had found beneath the seat on Keith’s lap, and grabbed his head to tuck it into the bag’s depths. The poor man grunted and heaved for what felt like years, before finally falling back into the seat, eyes closed and breathing heavy. 

 

‘Oh my god, Pidge, _get it off me!_ It reeks!’ Lance yelled, covering his nose with his hand as he fought hard not to gag himself. 

 

‘I don’t wanna touch it! You get it off!’ Pidge snapped, indignant, growling as Lance flipped them off. 

 

‘I’m driving, Pidge! Do you want us to crash?!’

 

‘It’s a goddamned miracle we haven’t crashed yet, anyway - you’re a _terrible_ driver!’

 

‘I _am not!_ You take that back, heathen!’

 

Once again, they were interrupted by another low moan, followed quickly by Keith mumbling -

 

‘I don’t feel good..’

 

‘Well no wonder - you just spewed like, three days worth of food all over Lance’s jeans,’ Pidge quipped, patting his shoulder in what they hoped was comfort. Keith merely rolled his head to the side and groaned quietly to himself, eyebrows tightly furrowed together. 

 

‘God.. that’s gonna take forever to get out..’ Lance lamented, looking down at his poor jeans in disgust.  

 

‘Maybe that’ll make you think twice in the future about shoving poor unsuspecting passers by down flights of stairs,’

 

‘ _Shut your quiznak!_ Anyway..’ he coughed, readjusting his hold on the steering wheel as he turned into a busy car park. ‘We’re here. It’s pretty late, so hopefully it won’t take too long to get you seen,’

 

Keith just moaned again, disinterested in everything that wasn't the immediate removal of all of his discomfort. 

 

Thanks to the severity of Keith’s wounds, he was taken off into an examination room as soon as they entered the emergency department, leaving Lance and Pidge to sit fidgeting on the waiting room chairs. It was nearly two hours later that a doctor finally came out calling their names.

 

‘Well,’ she said, looking down at the chart in her hands. ‘he’ll be fine, but we’re gonna have to keep him in for at least another day. He has a pretty bad concussion, and there was a lot of bleeding - although the CT scans didn’t show any actual damage to his brain, which is a good sign. As for his arm, we’ve put it in a cast, but it’ll take a few weeks to heal up. He’s got a couple of fractured ribs and a badly sprained ankle as well, so all in all he’s gonna be pretty miserable for a while, and he’ll find it difficult to do much by himself. He gave us his name, but we couldn’t find any next of kin to call - do you know anyone who might be able to look after him?’

 

Lance frowned, scratching his cheek awkwardly. ‘Well, the thing is, we don’t actually know him.. so I haven’t got the faintest _clue_ who to call,’

 

‘Sorry, Dr, we wish we could be of more help,’ Pidge added, rubbing their eyes tiredly. It was just past seven am, and they wanted nothing more than to go home to bed. 

 

‘I see.. and you said he fell down a flight of stairs, right?’ the doctor asked, looking at them sceptically. ‘How did that happen, again?’

 

Shifting on the balls of his feet, Lance glanced shiftily over at Pidge who pointedly looked away. 

 

‘Uhh.. h-he was… looking for aliens in this old hotel not far from here and..’

 

‘And so were we, so we just happened to cross paths,’ Pidge finished, making Lance cringe. He had been hoping to avoid the part about him being out looking for aliens as well. The doctor was hot, and he had wanted to flirt with her a little before heading home. As expected, the doctor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, an amused look flashing in her eyes.

 

‘…Aliens?’ 

 

Pidge just nodded, an excited grin on their face. ‘Yeah! We almost found one too - well, we would have if Lance hadn’t messed it up and -‘

 

‘Okay!’ Lance snapped, slapping his hand over Pidge’s mouth. ‘That’s enough of the crazy talk, Pidge-aroo. I was just keeping them company, I _swear_ , I mean, Pidge is great but.. haha! They’re just crazy about aliens! Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in line, you know?’

 

‘Yeah.. I guess I do..’ the doctor mumbled, looking back down at Keith’s chart to avoid Lance’s eyes. ‘Well, seeing as we don’t have anyone else to call for him, and he really shouldn’t be left alone for a while, would you two be able to keep an eye on him? Seeing as you’re the ones who ‘found’ him,’ 

 

The added emphasis on the word ‘found’ made both Lance and Pidge flinch. She _definitely_ knew it wasn’t quite as straight forwards as it perhaps seemed. Forced into a corner, Lance realised he had no other option than to agree. 

 

‘Good, then come back tomorrow afternoon - probably around five - and if everything’s okay, we’ll discharge him into your care. If you want to see him now, he’s in room 307, but I have a feeling he’s asleep already,’ 

 

Just as the doctor had said, he was. Lance and Pidge had walked down the corridor to room 307, and after confirming that the door plaque read _Keith Kogane_ , they had opened the door to find Keith lying propped up on a pile of stark white pillows, head tightly bound in bandages, eyes resolutely closed and breathing soft and steady. His right arm was indeed encased in a cast, while his right foot was wrapped in bandages and suspended from the ceiling to keep it elevated. Other small gauze patches littered his body here and there, covering up the worst of the cuts and bruises. A drip was attached to his left elbow, along side what looked to be a pint of blood. 

 

The sight of Keith’s injuries laid bare like that was almost too much for Lance to take. He still couldn’t believe that he had been responsible for it. That he could have killed him. Apparently his face must have reflected his inner turmoil, as he felt Pidge’s small hand wrap around his and give a soft squeeze. Looking down at them, he smiled a little, trying to replace his expression with one of his usual cocky smirks. He didn’t think he managed it. 

 

‘You know,’ Pidge started, as they closed the door to Keith’s room on their way out. ‘I think we probably should be the ones to look after him, don’t you?’

 

Lance sighed heavily, exhaustion baring heavily down on him. ‘Yeah.. I guess you’re right.. Goddamn it, and here I was hoping I could relax this week!’

 

\----

 

‘Keith, I’m sorry, but you know I can’t come back,’ The voice on the other side of the phone belonged to Takashi Shirogane, Keith’s official guardian and for-all-intents-and-purposes older brother. Keith felt the fingers of his now useless right hand clench painfully, and closed his eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions welling in his chest.

 

He had woken up early that afternoon to a sharp pain shooting through the back of his head, disoriented and confused, with no idea of where he was or what had happened before a young looking female doctor let herself into his room and explained it all. His memories of the night before were completely gone, bar a few hazy recollections of being in the back of a car. After a brief check up and something to eat, he had asked for his phone and called Shiro, the man he had been living with since he was fourteen years old. 

 

Having lost his parents when he was eight, Keith had been tossed from foster home to foster home, occasionally interspersed with group homes, before meeting Shiro when he was thirteen. Shiro had been training to become a teacher, and was visiting the group home Keith was staying at as a placement for his course. Apparently Shiro had taken a liking to Keith, and despite only being nineteen himself, had officially fostered him the year after. However, following a year long disappearance when Keith was eighteen, Shiro was now living in Europe in an attempt to remember what had happened to him. He had sworn not to return to Keith’s side until that happened. Or, until Keith agreed to finally resume his life and let someone other than Shiro in. Keith grimaced at the thought - he hadn’t thought the promise would stretch to include Keith nearly losing his life. 

 

‘But -‘ he started, his throat clenching tightly against the lump developing there. 

 

‘There aren’t any buts, Keith, we’ve been through this before,’ Shiro sighed, sounding exhausted. Keith felt his eyes waver as tears threatened his vision. He knew it was just a combination of the pain and medication he was on making him emotional, but it was still horrible to feel so vulnerable. ‘Look, I’m sorry you’re hurt, and you _know_ I want to be there with you, but I just can’t. I still haven’t made any headway with what happened to me, and you still haven’t made a single effort to start your life up. We made a deal, kiddo,’

 

‘So you care more about what happened to you than you do about what happened to me,’ Keith hissed, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. It wasn’t fair, he knew, but it didn’t make the fact that Shiro was essentially abandoning him any easier. He raised his cast-bound hand up to his face, pressing the rough material into his eye socket. Everything still hurt like hell, and he was finding it difficult to think through the fog of the concussion.

 

‘That’s not true, Keith, and you know it. Don’t put this on me,’ Shiro told him, his voice patient but wounded. Shiro had found it just as difficult to leave as Keith had found it to watch him go. Sighing, Keith slumped back into the pillows, failing to prevent a small whimper from escaping his mouth. He heard Shiro wince at the sound on the other end of the phone. ‘C’mon,’ he said, trying to get through to him. ‘you still haven't told me how you are,’

 

Closing his eyes, Keith resigned himself to Shiro’s decision. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. He might be forced to accept the fact that Shiro wouldn’t come back to America for him, but it didn’t mean he had to give him anything more. Shiro was not pleased with Keith’s stubbornness. 

 

‘Don’t you ‘fine’ me, Keith, you know I hate it when you do that. I might not be there, but I still _care_ about you. You’re in the hospital, for heaven’s sake! Tell me how you are, or I’ll call the front desk and get them to tell me everything,’

 

Blanching at the thought, Keith relented. ‘Whatever.. everything hurts, Shiro,’ he whined, rolling his head to the side. It was still bound tightly in white bandages, and the fabric was scratching at his skin, making him increasingly uncomfortable. ‘Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been in so much pain before,’ he heard Shiro make a small displeased sound.

 

‘Man.. I’m so sorry, kiddo,’ he sighed, and Keith imaged him running his hand over his face. ‘that’s seriously rough. So what happened? You fell?’

 

‘Yeah.. down the stairs. I don’t remember anything, but apparently a couple people found me and drove me to the hospital. I think I might have thrown up in their car, but it’s fuzzy..’

 

Shiro laughed quietly, and Keith could hear the fondness. ‘Well, I’m sure they don’t mind even if you did - it’s not exactly surprising after something like that. Did you hit your head?’

 

‘Uh huh.. pretty badly, too. I’m all bandaged up, it sucks. It’s so itchy, and I can see it from the corner of my eye, but every time I move it the nurses yell at me,’

 

‘Well yeah - you’ve gotta leave it put,’

 

Keith grunted in displeasure. He didn’t care what he was supposed to do. He just wanted the stupid thing off. 

 

‘They said I’ve got a concussion,’ he told Shiro, a slight reluctance colouring his voice. Under normal circumstances, he never would have divulged that information, but he still couldn’t quite let go of the hope that if Shiro realised how bad it was he might come back. ‘I don’t really get everything they were saying to me, but I think from what they said it’s pretty bad. I keep getting really dizzy and sick - I’m fine right now, thank god, but I threw up like a hundred times earlier,’

 

‘…Telling me all that won’t make me change my mind, Keith,’ Damn. So Shiro had seen through his rouse. ‘but I really am sorry. At least you’re safe and being taken care of. How long do you have to stay?’

 

For a moment Keith considered ignoring the question in favour of giving Shiro the cold shoulder, before deciding against it - with what he’d just told him, Shiro might end up thinking Keith had another attack and died or something. Even Keith couldn’t bring himself to be that cruel. ‘I dunno.. they’re worried about discharging me if I don’t have anyone to look after me, but I told them it’s not a big deal. Apparently the people who found me have said they’ll drop by my place to check up on me, but I don’t need it. I’ve looked after myself for this long well enough,’

 

‘Until you fell down a flight of stairs, that is,’ Shiro corrected, sounding slightly pissed. Keith winced - it was notoriously difficult to piss Shiro off, but when he was angry, it was terrifying. ‘And this is one of the prime reasons why I want you to branch out more, Keith. You can’t keep relying on just yourself like this. You know what, I’m gonna call Allura, get her to come pick you up. You can stay with her while you get better,’

 

‘Don’t do that!’ Keith yelled, a jolt of panic running through his system. Allura was Shiro’s ex girlfriend. They had dated before Shiro disappeared, and had decided that after he came back from Europe they would start again. ‘I don’t need her to look after me - I don’t _want_ her to. I have _you,_ don’t I?’ 

 

‘That’s not enough. For Christ’s sake, Keith, you’re twenty and you’ve never had a single friend. Don’t make that noise, you know it’s true, and you _also_ know it’s not normal. You’re better than this. Honestly, you’re a good kid - you’re smart, you’re seriously talented at art, and when you want to be you can even be pretty nice. I mean, yeah you might not like being around people that much - okay, okay, _at all,_ sorry - but that doesn’t mean you can’t at least make one or two friends, does it? You let me in, after all. Let Allura help you,’

 

‘Seriously, can you stop? It’s unbearably embarrassing when you got off on one like that.. Don’t ever list my qualities again, okay? And don’t call Allura - if you do, I’ll never forgive you. Also, why do I need friends? If you came back, I would be perfectly happy..’ Keith sighed, his face crumpling into something akin to a pout. Shiro sighed wearily. 

 

‘Fine, I won’t call her. But this is _exactly_ why I want you to branch out, kiddo. You’re not happy. When I’m around, you content yourself with that, and when I’m not, you hole up in your own little world, ignoring everything else, and resigning yourself to being miserable. I don’t get why you seem to think having people in your life if such a bad thing. They’re not gonna leave you - I didn’t,’

 

‘Yeah, Shiro, you did..’ once again, he regretted it as soon as he’d spoken, but he just hadn’t been able to stop himself. Even though it had been years ago, the pain of Shiro’s disappearance was still so raw it left Keith breathless whenever he thought about it. The memories of coming home one night to find their apartment empty, chairs and tables tipped on their sides, draws flung open with their contents spilled everywhere still haunted his dreams, filled him with unspeakable panic when he’d wake at night to the silent world around him. ‘You left me alone for an entire year, and then after I finally got you back, you upped and left again.. I don’t need other people doing that to me too,’ his voice trailed off towards the end, and inexplicable tiredness washing over him. Shiro seemed to hear it too, and chose to focus on that rather than the immense guilt flooding through his chest at having let Keith down after promising him he’d look after him. 

 

‘You sound tired - maybe we should call it a day? I think you should rest some more if you’re concussed,’

 

Keith shook his head petulantly, fighting hard now to keep his eyes from drifting closed. ‘Don’t wanna,’ he said, his voice weak. ‘I’ve slept so much already.. and I just want to talk to you,’

 

‘I know, buddy, but you need to sleep more if you’re gonna get better. And I’ll be home soon, after we both keep our promises, okay?’

 

‘..Didn’t promise anything..’ He mumbled, pushing himself further into the pillows. He wanted nothing more than to have Shiro back at his side so he could sleep. He heard Shiro laugh, but it sounded far away, and he squinted, trying to focus on it. 

 

‘Alright, maybe you didn’t, but I’m still holding you to it, alright?’ He told him. ‘Now, I’m hanging up whether you want me to or not - you seriously need to get some rest. You’re exhausted,’ he waited for a reply, but not getting one, cleared his throat loudly. ‘Keith?’ Still nothing. ‘Keith, buddy, you there?’ a small laugh left his throat - apparently, Keith had already fallen asleep, phone still in hand, line connected. Shaking his head, Shiro smiled and hung up the call. 


	2. Maybe a friend or a few couldn't hurt?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is forced to accept help from Lance and co., and our wonderful paladins try their best™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! So like I said, this really is gonna be long, but there might be a wait between this one and the next chapters. Sorry. Uni life *eternal thumbs up*
> 
> P.S. I know there's a lot of italics.. they're very.. lively when they talk. :)

 

 

Lance felt his cheeks redden, a rough sort of embarrassment slithering its way through his chest. ‘Hey c’mon! It’s not like I _meant_ to shove the guy down the stairs!’ he protested loudly, glaring harshly at Hunk, who had backed away to the other side of Lance's living room. ‘I thought he was a Balmera! I thought he was gonna kill Pidge!’

 

‘You know, dude, that doesn’t make it much better,’ Hunk said, failing to hold back a small laugh. ‘It just makes you sound kinda crazy, is all. I mean, a _Balmera_? You’re as bad as Pidge and Allura!’

 

‘Shut your quiznak! I was trying to help them!’

 

‘Do you ever use a come back that isn’t ‘shut your quiznak’?’ Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow at Lance from where they sat on his bed. The three had met early at Lance’s apartment to discuss what had happened the night before, but it had apparently turned into the two of them roasting Lance. He wasn't happy with the seeming turn of events.

 

‘Can’t you leave me alone?’ he demanded, slumping into his chair with a force that wasn’t strictly speaking necessary. ‘I’m still traumatised, you know?! I thought I killed the guy!’

 

‘Well, how is he now?’ Hunk asked, swivelling on the desk chair he had claimed as his own. ‘Have you seen him?’ Lance shook his head.

 

‘We’re going to pick him up a five - I don’t _want_ to go, but apparently that’s the decent thing to do,’ he said, waving his hand dismissively. ‘All I know is he broke his arm and has like, a concussion or something,’

 

‘You broke his _arm?_ ’

 

‘Give it a rest!’

 

Hunk chuckled slightly, unable to deny that he was enjoying watching Lance squirm. Normally, Lance never really concerned himself with the welfare of anyone that wasn’t Pidge or Hunk, so it was almost nice to see him so concerned for someone else. 

 

‘Anyway,’ Hunk said, changing the topic - something Lance was exponentially grateful for. ‘did you find anything? About the Balmera?’

 

Pidge shook their head sadly. ‘Nope. We probably would have, if it hadn’t been for all that drama. I mean, the traces it left must have still been fresh, but we had to drive that guy to the hospital, so we didn’t have enough time to look. I’m thinking I might go back tonight,’

 

‘Nope! No way!’ Lance yelled, face falling in horror. ‘Not a chance, Pidge! We are never _ever_ going back to that quiznaking place, you hear me?’

 

‘I didn’t mean with _you_ ,’ they huffed, glaring darkly at Lance from under their hair. ‘You were useless. _And_ you nearly killed a guy,’

 

Lance felt his retort die in his throat. It was true, after all. He had nearly killed Keith. If the guy had fallen a little worse, or Pidge hadn’t been there to snap Lance out of his shock, things might not have worked out so well, and Keith could have bled to death, or developed some kind of complication from the hit to his head. They still didn’t really know how he was doing, but they at least knew he would live - the hospital had told them they would call if anything happened. 

 

‘Do we know why he was there yet?’ Hunk asked, frowning slightly. It was odd enough that both Lance and Pidge had been there, let alone someone else. It didn’t quite sit right with him. Pidge nodded slightly, tilting their head.

 

‘I think he was there for the same reason as us - he mentioned the Balmera when he came to, and was panicking about finding it,’ they said, scratching their chin. If it was true and Keith had been looking for the Balmera, maybe Pidge could enlist him as their future hunting partner. If, of course, he wasn’t scared shitless of them because of Lance’s attempted murder. ‘Is it too soon to consider interviewing him? I mean, he might have seen something that we missed. And there were all those weird noises, too - maybe he knows what they were?’

 

‘Don’t think that’s a good idea, buddy,’ Hunk sighed, slumping slightly. ‘What if he’s got amnesia or something? He might not remember anything. And anyway, he’s still sick - it’d be a bit unfair on him, don’t you think?’ Pidge didn’t reply, in favour of sulking.

 

‘Well, I kinda hope he _doesn’t_ remember what happened,’ Lance huffed, crossing his arms aggressively over his chest. Hunk raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. ‘Think about it! If he remembers everything, he’ll know it was my fault! He could call the police and get me arrested!’

 

‘So, what? You’re thinking we just don’t tell him it was you who pushed him?’ Pidge asked. They did see Lance’s point, but it still seemed kind of wrong somehow. Lance nodded enthusiastically.

 

‘Yes, exactly! We just leave it be. If he’s forgotten, we don’t enlighten him. And if he _hasn’t…_ well, then I’ve got plenty saved up to run away and start my life anew,’ 

 

‘Don’t you think that’s a bit dramatic, Lance?’ Hunk laughed, smiling at Lance fondly. They had been friends since they were children, but Lance’s antics still never failed to amuse and startle him. It was amazing the kind of trouble Lance could get himself into simply by being him. 

 

‘Well, whatever.. it’s probably about time we left, don’t you think?’ Lance dismissed. They still had to pick up Keith’s bike from the hotel, after all. 

 

\---

 

It took nearly an hour to drive back out to the hotel, find where Keith had parked his bike - Lance made a mental note to have a go at him for hiding it in a bush once he was no longer at risk of dying - and trek back over to the hospital. By the time they got there, it was half five, and the attractive doctor from the night before was stood waiting for them. 

 

‘We’ve pretty much discharged him,’ she told them as Lance swung Keith’s keys around his finger, and Pidge sipped on a vending machine coffee. ‘He’s changed back into his own clothes, and his prescriptions have all been filled, but because you took a little longer than expected, we let him go back to sleep in his room,’

 

‘Jeez, dude couldn’t even stay awake an extra fifteen minutes?’ Lance grumbled, crumpling his face into a frown. The doctor threw it straight back at him.

 

‘Have you ever had a severe concussion before, Mr. McClain?’ she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him irritably. Lance merely looked back at her a little sheepishly, shaking his head. ‘Well, then I’d thank you to keep your opinions to yourself for now. He’s going to be easily exhausted for a few days, and it will take some time for the symptoms to go away. However, if he starts bleeding from the ears or nose, vomits continuously, passes out or experiences severe, persistent headaches over the next few days, please bring him back in - it could mean a bleed has started up on his brain,’

 

‘Alright, we’ll bare that in mind,’ Pidge smiled, sipping their coffee again. It was horrid, cheap stuff, but at least it was working to keep them awake. ‘When you said vomit continuously, is that over a prolonged period, or if he spews at all?’

 

‘Over a prolonged period,’ she said, nodding. ‘He’s gotten periodically dizzy and sick since waking up, and we’ve checked it over - it doesn’t appear to be anything serious. Some people are just more susceptible to the symptoms than others. I would say if he gets sick more than once every couple of hours, then bring him in just to be safe. Was that everything?’ Lance and Pidge nodded in sync. ‘Good. Then, feel free to just leave as soon as Keith is ready - you can go and wake him up any time from now,’ with that, she turned and walked away, instantly being collared by a group of anxious looking nurses. 

 

Grunting irritably, Lance huffed and followed Pidge back down the corridor to Keith’s room. Like the doctor had said, he was once again asleep, but this time fully dressed and lying over the covers, cast-bound arm tucked carefully into his side. Finally getting a good look at the guy, Lance couldn’t stop himself from laughing at his mullet and waist length red leather jacket. 

 

‘Man, someone got a little too into eighties glam rock, huh?’ He chuckled, walking around the side of the bed so he could stand by Keith’s head. 

 

‘What’s wrong with glam rock?’ Pidge asked, cocking their head. Lance just stared at them, not sure he comprehended their meaning. He would have replied with a quip about why glam rock is comparable to the Jurassic Park three of the music world, if it hadn’t been for a small moan diverting his attention. Keith was waking up. 

 

‘Yo, dude, time to go,’ he said putting his hand as gently as he could on Keith’s shoulder. However, as soon as he did, Keith’s eyes snapped open, and with a jolting movement, he shoved himself to the other side of the bed. 

 

‘Shiro?’ he asked, not understanding where he was. Lance looked a bit gone out, but quickly recovered. 

 

‘No? I’m Lance. Remember? I drove you here last night? You puked on me…’

 

For a moment Keith looked scared, as though he didn’t quite trust what his eyes were telling him, before with a heavy breath, he sunk down into the mattress again. ‘Oh..’ he sighed, rubbing his bandaged hand over his face. ‘So that actually happened?’

 

‘What? You forgot?!’ Lance yelled, an inexplicable anger rushing over him. For Keith to have thrown up all over him, and not even remember.. it was too much. Keith just glanced up at him from between his fingers, eyes sunken and tired, brows tensed.

 

‘Lance, lay off,’ Pidge snapped, taking a step closer to where Keith still sat hunched over. ‘Sorry about him, he’s a real single-cell organism sometimes,’ Keith laughed breathily, apparently relaxed by Pidge’s sense of humour. ‘So, Keith - it’s Keith, right? That’s what you told us last night - what _do_ you remember?’

 

Frowning, Keith lowered his hand, looking as though he were thinking hard. ‘I’m not sure.. I sort of remember being in a car, but it’s almost more like I dreamt that - it doesn’t quite feel real, you know? Before that.. nothing,’

 

‘Nothing? What’s the last thing you remember before being in the car then?’

 

‘Umm.. making food in my apartment,’ Keith sighed, leaning back against the pillows as he rubbed his chest. Moving so quickly had done nothing for his broken ribs. ‘I remember I was thinking about going somewhere, but I have no idea where that was.. - oh!’ he startled upright, wincing as he pulled his ribs again. ‘What happened to my bike? I wouldn’t have gone out without it. Damn.. I didn’t even think about that..’

 

‘Don’t worry,’ Pidge told him, holding their hand out to Lance for the keys. Obliging grumpily, he tossed them over. ‘Lancelot picked it up from outside the hotel before we came here. Your helmet’s with it to, but Lance had to wear it incase his inability to drive made him crash and die,’

 

‘Hey! I’m a _fantastic_ driver! We went through this last night!’

 

‘Yeah, along with you being _‘streamlined’_ ,’ 

 

Keith just frowned, not following. ‘So, thanks for stopping by,’ he started, slowly lowering himself over the edge of the bed, and taking a tentative step on his ankle. ‘but if you’d just give me my keys, I’ll be out of your hair,’

 

‘No can do, Keithy, buddy,’ Lance grinned, snatching the keys back off Pidge before Keith could get close enough to take them. A dark look crossed Keith’s eyes as he glared at him. ‘We’ve been instructed to make sure you get home alive, and to keep an eye on you. I happen to take my responsibilities _very_ seriously, so I’m afraid you’ll be coming back with us,’

 

‘What? Not a chance - I don’t _know_ you,’ he hissed, leaning against the side of the bed as his ankle protested beneath his weight. 

 

‘Well, then is there anyone we can call to take our place?’ Pidge asked, folding their arms over their chest. They had expected Keith to be a little reluctant, and they had prepared themselves to stand their ground. For a moment, Keith looked as though he were going to protest, before he cast his eyes to the ground, a soft blush covering his cheeks beneath the bruises. 

 

‘I-… No. There’s no one,’

 

Lance snickered mockingly. ‘No one? _At all?_ Jeez, does everyone just hate you, or something?’

 

‘Lance!’ Pidge snapped, moving to stand between Lance and Keith, who had started to glare at each other venomously. ‘There’s gotta be someone, surely,’

 

‘There isn’t, okay? I don’t have anyone. And I don’t need you two to help me - I’m _perfectly_ fine on my own,’ however, as he said that he took a step towards the door, the weight on his ankle proving to be too much, and fell awkwardly into Pidge’s side. He lay across them for a moment, breathing heavily against the pain.

 

‘Yeah, you’re doing stellar,’ Pidge quipped, raising an eyebrow down at him as he whimpered. ‘Dude, if you really don’t have anyone, we’ll watch out for you. It’s the least we could do after Lance -‘ Pidge stopped themselves short, a sharp blush colouring their face as they remembered their promise to keep Lance’s ‘mistake’ to themselves. 

 

‘After Lance..? What?’ Keith asked, pushing himself back up and onto the bed to rest his leg.

 

‘No-nothing, nothing,’ Pidge grinned, shooting a nervous glance over at Lance who had since frozen in terror. ‘I was just gonna, err.. say that.. after we went to all the trouble of driving you here, we at least wanna make sure you’re looked after!’

 

‘Well, that’s real nice and everything, but I’m honestly alright on my own,’ Keith sighed, his hand once again on his ribs. It beginning to become painfully obvious that his injuries were worse than even he had thought. Riding his bike was going to be an interesting experience. 

 

‘Will you just shut the quiznak up?’ Lance snapped, having finally jolted himself out of his stress-induced stupor. He reminded himself to kill Pidge later for nearly outing him. ‘Dude, let us help you - look, what if we just all go back to your place? Thinking about it maybe you wouldn’t want to go with a bunch of strangers, but if we’re at your place, that’s not so bad, right?’

 

Keith thought about it for a moment, before shaking his head. ‘Nope, not gonna happen. I’m not going anywhere with you,’

 

Lance lurched forwards, only stopped from diving on Keith by Pidge’s arms shooting out to catch him. ‘What’s wrong with me?!’ he yelled, eyes furious. ‘Screw you then, _Keith_ , I was just trying to help!’ 

 

‘I don’t _want_ your help!’ Keith snapped back, his voice breathy at the pain in his ribs. It was true - the last thing he wanted was to be forced to spend time with a couple of strangers. He couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘Look, you can’t make me go with you - I’ll say you kidnapped me. I’ll say you pushed me down the stairs, that all this -‘ he gestured to himself. ‘- is your fault,’

 

Lance was stuck there. After all, what Keith was threatening to say had actually happened, whether Keith knew that or not. And Lance knew that if Keith said that to the police, he wouldn’t be able to stand up to the interrogation. Slumping, he gave in. ‘Fine,’ he mumbled, turning away as he threw Keith’s bike keys to him. ‘do what you want. But don’t blame us if you keel over and die,’ he walked out of the room, not bothering to look back at Pidge, who was still stood stuttering by Keith’s side. 

 

’S-sorry, ahh.. right, well if anything happens, call this number and we’ll, uh… we’ll come help you,’ they said, pulling out a pen to write their number on Keith’s uninjured hand. He ignored them, but nodded slightly in acknowledgement. Not that he _was_ going to call. 

 

\---

 

‘Man, what an ass!’ Lance yelled as he left the hospital cafe, coffee in hand. He hadn’t stopped fuming since leaving Keith’s room, and Pidge was beginning to lose their patience with him. ‘You’d think a guy’d be grateful to the people who _saved his life,_ but _no!_ He apparently doesn’t give a damn!’

 

‘Lance will you shut up?’ Pidge rubbed their eyes wearily, clutching their second coffee a little tighter to themselves. ‘You haven’t stopped talking about him since we left his room. Honestly, I’m starting to think you’re falling for him,’

 

Lance sniggered. ‘Pfft! Not a change Pidgey, I mean, that mullet? I _have_ standards, you know?’

 

‘…So him being a guy isn’t a problem?’

 

Damn. Lance stopped in his tracks, feeling his cheeks flush. ‘W-well… uhh.. I mean, I-‘

 

Laughing, Pidge clapped him on the back before walking through the exit. ‘Like it matters, Lance! Anyway, I’ve known about that English guy at the coffee shop for a while now,’

 

‘You have?!’ he squealed, mortified. He had done his best to keep that particular conquest quiet from both Pidge and Hunk. ‘Since when? Who told y- damn that Allura!’ 

 

Pidge just laughed again, making their way over to the car. However, when they got close enough to spot it through the sea of other vehicles, they stopped sharply, squinting into the evening sun. Lance had parked Keith’s bike in the space next to the car, and it was still there. Frowning, Pidge made their way over, steadfastly ignoring Lance’s cries of indignation and breaches of privacy, in favour of ducking their head down to get a look behind the body of the bike. 

 

Sat slumped on the floor, back pressed against Lance’s car door, his eyes closed, was Keith. His breathing was worryingly ragged, and he had both hands pressed against his ribs in pain. 

 

‘Keith?’ They asked, their voice startling both Keith and Lance. Looking up, Keith narrowed his eyes irritably, growling low in his throat at the sight of Pidge. ‘What are you doing? I thought you were going home?’

 

‘Wait, Keith’s here?!’ Lance asked, scooting past Pidge to get a look. Sure enough, his eyes met with Keith’s, and he grumbled loudly, obviously displeased to see him. ‘Damn, dude, just when I thought I’d gotten rid of you, too,’

 

‘Shut up..’ Keith huffed, doing his best to straighten out his features and hide his obvious discomfort. ‘I was just leaving,’

 

‘Yeah, looks like it,’ Pidge countered, putting their hands on their hips confrontationally. Keith sighed and looked away. 

 

‘…It’s a kick start,’

 

‘What?’

 

‘My bike.. it’s a kick start,’

 

‘What about it?’ Lance asked, not following. He had found out it was kick start when he rode it over to the hospital, and aside from being slightly annoying, he didn’t think there was anything special about it. 

 

‘And I can’t kick it cause it hurts my goddamned ribs, okay?!’ yelling seemed to hurt, and Keith shrunk further into the concrete, his eyes closing on themselves again. Pidge hummed knowingly, glancing from Keith to the bike. 

 

‘Yeah.. I can see how that would be a problem,’ they said, tapping the tank with a finger. ‘Well, I guess that means you’re gonna _have_ to catch a ride with us!’ Their voice was annoyingly chipper, and it made Keith glower.

 

‘Wait, wait, wait, no. I thought we’d been through this?’ Lance argued, waving his hands dramatically in front of Pidge. ‘Mullet man over here is gonna ride his ass back to shitty one-man-show-land, and you and me are gonna drive off into the literal sunset to go meet Hunk for tacos. _That_ was the plan, Pidge, and I am a man of my word. We _do not_ go back on the plan,’

 

‘You once had a plan to kidnap all of the wasps on campus and recreate the Saw movies with insects, Lance. What happened to that plan, huh?’

 

‘Shut up, I was young and naive, and yet to learn the true, evil nature of those tiny flying balls of death,’

 

‘Basically, you got stung and chickened out,’

 

‘Look at it however you want - _now_ I am a man of my word, and this man does not betray tacos for anything,’

 

A small pained coughing sound interrupted their argument, making them look down to see Keith’s body sliding towards the ground. Dropping their coffee, Pidge grabbed hold of his shoulders, steadying him before he collapsed completely. 

 

‘Shit - Lance, maybe we should take him back inside?’ they suggested, looking over their shoulder in concern.

 

‘No..’ Keith mumbled, using the last of his energy to open his eyes. ‘I’m just tired.. I tried to kick start it a few times and wore myself out..’

 

‘Ha! What an idiot..’ Lance laughed, folding his arms over his chest. Keith glared up at him from where he sat supported by Pidge.

 

‘What was that, slug?’ Keith hissed, eyes sparkling dangerously despite the evident exhaustion. Lance barked out a laugh, expression incredulous.

 

‘Slug?! What the hell? Dude, you need to up your game like, _bad_ ,’ he grinned, but his face softened a little as Keith wilted into the car door. ‘Alright, enough of the banter, guys, time to get Mr. Sleepy over here home to his bed,’

 

‘’m not going with you,’ Keith tried again, wriggling away as Lance attempted to get a hold of him. ‘’m fine..’

 

‘Yep, you’re totally peachy, man. A hundred percent, tip top condition. Is that why your eyes are swivelling in your head?’ 

 

All Keith could do was glower at him again, and try to silently convey his distain. However, Lance gallantly ignored it, and hauled him to his feet before unlocking his car and unceremoniously shoving him into the back seat. 

 

‘Pidge’ll drive you to your place, and I’ll follow behind on your bike,’ he said as he closed the door, leaving Keith sprawled across the seats glumly. ‘Give them the address, and _try_ not to die before we get there - I _really_ wouldn’t do well in prison,’ He missed Keith’s look of confusion as he pulled the helmet over his head and kick started the bike. 

 

‘Alright,’ Pidge started once the car hit the freeway. ‘where am I going?’ 

 

‘67th and 8th on North Avenue,’ Keith said, sinking further into the seat. 

 

\---

 

‘Inspector! Inspector, I have the report for you,’ the officer who spoke looked to be in his late twenties, and more stressed than he would care to admit. Rushing towards his senior officer, he held out a file, waiting for her to take it. 

 

‘Thank you,’ she said, nodding slightly as she took a sip of coffee. Flipping the file open, she grimaced faintly, taking in the images of the desiccated body. ‘God.. what kind of monster could do that,’ she mused, shaking her head. 

 

‘I don’t know, ma’am, but people are saying there’s going to be more,’ her subordinate said, shuddering. Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him quizzically. ‘You weren’t here then, but about five years ago there was a spate of murders with this m.o. -‘ he pointed to the picture, barely visible from where the Inspector held the file. ‘- and they kept going for months. In the end, I think there were around twenty deaths,’

 

‘What? That’s obscene..’ she hissed, feeling her eyes widen. ‘Give me the details later - for now, I want to know about this one,’ Her subordinate nodded, gulping hard.

 

‘It happened last night - well, this morning, technically, between three and six a.m. - at the old abandoned hotel on the edge of town. The body was found in the west wing by the caretaker early this morning -‘ he looked down at the other file he still held in his hands. ‘- at… 9 a.m., in one of the far rooms. Apparently kids often break in and snoop around, looking for a local urban legend,’

 

‘What legend?’

 

‘The, uhh.. the Balmera, ma’am,’

 

‘ _Balmera?’_ she asked, scrunching her face up. She wondered who came up with the names for these things, and why they didn’t do something better with their time. 

 

‘Yes, ma’am. It’s a legend about a stone-like alien that’s been trapped in the town for the last sixty years, I think. Apparently, every five or so years it makes an appearance and causes deaths like these by, uh.. sucking out the life energy of it’s victims,’ he felt himself blush. ‘Well.. last night, according to the reports, a young man was hospitalised after a fall at the hotel. He was found by a couple of others with a severe head injury and a broken arm and ribs. According to the doctors who treated him, he has almost total amnesia of the night in question, but he was admitted to hospital around five a.m. - meaning that there’s a good chance he was there when the murder was committed,’

 

‘Do we have any details about this man?’ she asked, taking another drink from her coffee cup. She rubbed her eyes - it had been a long day, and it was looking to be an even longer night. 

 

‘Not much - all we know is that his name is Keith Kogane, he’s twenty years old, and two years ago he was involved in a missing persons case; his legal guardian, a man called Takashi Shirogane, went missing for a year before turning up again with no recollection of where he had been, or what happened to him other than being in Europe. Around that time, Kogane’s life seemed to fall apart - he was involved in a number of minor incidents including assault and suspected arson, as well as dropping out of college and losing his part time job. No charges filed against him stuck, and he got off with nothing but warnings,’

 

‘So much for ‘not much’,’ she smirked, casting her subordinate a glance from the side of her eye. He blushed slightly, fidgeting with the file in his hands. ‘Is he still at the hospital?’

 

He shook his head. ‘No, he was released this evening into the care of the two who found him - apparently the doctors couldn’t find any next of kin to contact, and because of the concussion, he couldn’t go home alone,’

 

‘What about this Shirogane person?’

 

‘He moved to Europe about six months ago, but we don’t know why,’

 

She nodded. ‘Alright. Find this Kogane’s address - I want to talk to him about what he remembers from last night,’

 

‘Yes, ma’am,’ her subordinate said, nodding curtly as he turned to leave. She spun back around to face her desk, deep in thought. Was it possible that they could have caught a break on this case so soon? She lifted the picture of the body up to get a closer look. Perhaps this Kogane had seen something and been attacked for it. Or maybe.. she shook her head. There was nothing to suggest something like that. 

 

 

\---

 

 

‘Dude, we’re here,’ 

 

Keith blinked awake, furrowing his brow at the sensation of being shaken. For the second time that day, his first thought was that he was back with Shiro, being awoken from a nap because he was snoring, or had missed a shift at work. But all too quickly, the illusion was shattered, as his eyes opened blearily into the mid evening light, and met with the annoying blue’s of Lance. Glaring, Keith sighed and threw his arm over his face. 

 

‘Wow, is that really the reaction I get for riding your bike _all the way_ here?’ Lance moaned, claiming back out from the car angrily. 

 

‘It’s not that far,’ Keith huffed, opening the door and pushing himself out. His ribs felt like they were on fire - perhaps falling asleep in the back of a car had not been the best idea. He somewhat reluctantly let Pidge let him their arm to climb out, stumbling slightly as he attempted to steady his footing. 

 

‘Not that far?’ Lance repeated, eyes bugging. ‘It look like, _an hour_!’ 

 

‘It was not an hour,’ Pidge countered, rolling their eyes dismissively. ‘It was forty minutes, tops,’

 

Keith nodded, backing her up, before slumping against the car door. ‘Sorry to interrupt the riveting conversation,’ he muttered darkly, glaring up through his hair. ‘but can we go inside? I seriously need to lie down before I keel over,’ Pidge held out their arm again, obliging, and Keith took it, leading the way towards his apartment block. 

 

It was nicer than Lance had been expecting. Having spoken to Keith only briefly, he had developed the mental image of a complete shut in, living in some sort of shack or run down hole. However, the building that Keith lived in was clean and fresh looking, the architecture screaming of twenties fashions with high sloping windows and floral motifs above the doors and window frames. It was a startling surprise to Lance, and it took him a moment to recover. 

 

‘How the hell do you afford to live here?’ he asked bluntly, staring up at the building as Keith shoved a key into the lock. Keith eyed him cautiously over his shoulder, but covered the look quickly with a small cough. 

 

‘I work part time,’ he said vaguely, shoving the door open heavily with his shoulder. The inside was even nicer than out, the floor covered in plush deep red carpets, potted plants lining the walls. A low staircase led up to the first floor apartments directly opposite the door, with an exquisitely decorated elevator off to the left. It was towards this that Keith veered. When Lance looked at him like a fish out of water, he merely grunted before elaborating. ‘I work two jobs..’ he said, pressing the button. ‘and anyway, it’s not so expensive here..’

 

‘Where do you work?’ Pidge asked as the doors opened, wanting to start a conversation. It only made sense to learn a little bit about the man they would be looking after for the next week or more. Keith clicked the button for the third floor and steadfastly avoided both Lance and Pidge’s eyes. 

 

‘A book store downtown,’ he mumbled, almost embarrassed. ‘I only get a couple shifts there now, though.. I got a few warnings.. well, maybe more than a few.. I spent too much time reading the books, and not selling them,’ he scratched at his cheek awkwardly, glaring as Lance barked out a harsh laugh. ‘Shut up! Anyway, I got a gig at a local gallery to fill in the spare,’

 

‘A gallery? Like for painting?’ Pidge cocked their head, looking up at him. Keith nodded, a low sound thrumming in his throat. When the doors pinged open, he shuffled out, turning left again down the dimly lit, heavily carpeted corridor, passing four doors before stopping at the last one. He flicked through his keys for a moment before finding the right one, slotting it into the lock. Lance and Pidge followed him dutifully inside, gasping softly as they took a look around the living room - cum - entranceway. Along every wall was lined dozens of paintings, all but a view piled on the floor, some stacks six deep. Every spare piece of counter or table top was filled with sketchbooks, most dogeared and worn looking, and all around every other available space - including the floor, Lance noted - were various jars and mugs filled the paintbrushes, and tubes of paint, most without lids. The overall effect was one of an artist’s studio, rather than a living space. 

 

‘..I take it you’re an artist, then?’ Pidge smirked, a look of awe colouring their eyes. Keith nodded absently, throwing his keys in a bowl on a table by the door, and making his way over to the outer counter of the kitchenette, his fingers messing with the corner of a sketchbook.

 

‘Yeah..’ he sighed, eyes glued to the floor. ‘but, I guess I won’t be painting for a while,’

 

It took Lance a moment to catch onto his drift, but he eventually followed Keith’s gaze down to his cast-bound hand and winced, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him. It struck him then how sad Keith’s tone had been, and he turned away, not wanting to face him. His eyes were instantly met by a life-sized painting of a woman in a low cut black dress, leaning over a bar, cigarette in hand. 

 

‘Someone you know?’ He winked, subconsciously attempting to diffuse the growing tension. Glancing up, Keith looked confused for a moment, but his eyes opened wide as he took in the painting Lance was pointing to. A soft blush crept across his face and he too turned away, choosing instead to hobble into the kitchenette, opening and closing cupboards looking for something. 

 

‘No,’ he all but snapped. ‘I used to work at a bar a couple years ago - this underground place, hence being underage - and she was a regular. She always struck me as odd, dressing up like that for such a seedy bar, so I painted her,’

 

‘Dude, that’s so weird!’ Lance laughed, an off feeling of unease drifting through his chest. He wasn’t sure why he found it so weird to paint relative strangers, but it didn’t sit right somehow. He didn’t miss the dark look in Keith’s eyes though, and frowned questioningly.

 

‘I painted her _after she died_ ,’ he clarified, pulling three mugs from various shelves and dumping them a little too heavily on the counter. Lance felt his mouth dry up. ‘It was weird.. that she just stopped coming, you know? So I painted _that_. To.. figure it out. I work through shit with paint,’

 

_Nice going, Lance._ He thought self-deprecatingly. In trying to shift the topic to something lighter, he had inadvertently made it worse. 

 

‘Shit, sorry,’ he rushed, spinning back round to look at the portrait with new eyes. In truth, it really was incredible - the human likeness was astounding. Bright skin tones mixed with a petulant black backdrop, smoky and largely indistinct, the composition working to create the impression that the viewer had simply interrupted her train of thought. The painterly quality added an extra layer of haziness to it, seeming to draw him in and capture him within the tumultuous swirls and smudges of paint. ‘It’s, uhh.. it’s good,’

 

‘Excuse the reptile,’ Pidge said wanly, eyes Lance fiercely from beside the counter Keith still leaned against. For a moment Keith looked as though he were going to speak, but decided against it, rather pushing the button on his coffee maker. 

 

‘Either of you want a drink?’ he asked at length, trying his hardest to channel Shiro - hospitality had never been Keith’s strong suit. 

 

‘Ah - I’ll do that, you sit down,’ Pidge told him, gently pushing him out of the way as they took his place in front of the mugs. They were a motley collection, and Pidge assumed they were the only clean ones he had, the rest having been sacrificed to painter’s turpentine long ago. They smiled softly, understanding the need to let passion consume you and colour every aspect of your life. ‘Have you sold any paintings?’ they asked politely, searching for sugar. Finding it, they dumped far more than would be recommend into each mug, without bothering to ask Keith how much he took. He shook his head again.

 

‘I don’t sell them,’ he spoke as he made his way to the sofa on the other side of the room, guiding his way with a hand trailing along the counter. 

 

‘Why not?’

 

‘They’re for me,’

 

‘What the hell? You could make a killing on these,’ Lance had meant it as a compliment, but from the look flashing across Keith’s face, he assumed he had once again said the wrong thing, and returned to leafing through a stack of canvases by the door. There was a combination of landscapes and portraits, and surprisingly a couple of still-lifes, vases full of vibrantly painted flowers atop lush table cloths, always with shells or skulls and mirrors adorning the empty spaces. ‘Whatever, just saying,’ he quipped, voice low to avoid being heard. 

 

Once the coffee maker beeped, Pidge poured it out and handed a mug to both Lance and Keith, both of whom having fallen silent, apparently too wrapped up in their own worlds to speak. They watched Keith subtly from the corner of their eye, noting the way he leafed through a sketchbook almost longingly, and felt slightly bad - maybe if they had listened to Lance a little earlier, Keith never would have ended up lying unconscious at the bottom of a staircase with multiple broken bones. Remembering something, Pidge squeaked minutely. Keith looked up, confused.

 

‘Ah - I just thought; have you remembered anything more about last night?’ they asked, taking the liberty of claiming one of the two armchairs as their own. 

 

‘Not really,’ Keith sighed, putting the sketchbook down on the coffee table so he could pick up his mug. It was becoming increasingly annoying that he had to do everything one handed. ‘I’ve gotten as far as deciding to go out.. I made food, googled the hotel, grabbed my gear and my keys, and…’ every word he said was punctuated by a deliberate nod, as though to try and shake his memories loose, a distant look falling over his eyes. ‘…and nothing. It stops there. I don’t even remember what I went there for, let alone _being_ there..’ he rubbed his eyes wearily, fed up beyond all hell of his brain refusing to catch up. Perhaps that was what Shiro felt like all the time. He felt faintly guilty at the thought, and chose to push it away. 

 

‘So nothing about the Balmera?’

 

‘The _Balmera?!_ ’ Keith demanded, aghast. ‘ _That’s_ what I was after?! Shit.. how could I have been so stupid?’

 

‘I don’t know, let me guess..’ Lance whispered, purposefully facing the wall away from Keith. Thankfully neither of the others heard, and continued their conversation in peace. 

 

‘Man.. I promised myself I wouldn’t look into that..’

 

‘What’s so bad about the Balmera?’

 

‘Maybe that whole part about it draining people’s life energy and leaving them looking like corn husks?’

 

‘Ah, so you know about all that,’ Pidge smiled approvingly, warming up to Keith considerably thanks to his cryptid knowledge. He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. It was a little sweet, but he figured that the sugar would be good for him so he didn’t complain. 

 

‘Of course,’ he said, eyes wide and disarmingly innocent. ‘You’d have to be stupid not to believe in the Balmera - there’s so much evidence on it, it’s unreal. They might as well just come out and tell the truth,’

 

‘I totally agree! It’s such a conspiracy - why keep it quiet when everyone knows anyway? They’re just covering it up ‘cause they’re too scared to admit these things exist,’ 

 

Lance sighed dramatically, shoving his face into his hands. So Keith was a total cryptid nut too. Fantastic. Now Pidge would insist they hang out and ‘get to know each other’. 

 

‘Man, it’s so nice having someone else to talk to about this!’ Pidge yelled happily, clapping their hands together in front of their face. Keith gave them a strange look for a moment, his eyes seeming to cloud over. However, Pidge didn’t notice it in their excitement, and Keith quickly reshuffled his features before they could. Only Lance saw it, and he made a mental note to file the expression away and figure out what it was later on. 

 

‘Yeah..’ Keith said slowly, looking pointedly down into his mug. ‘makes a change, I guess,’

 

‘Do you not know anyone else who likes cryptids?! That’s so unlucky!’ Pidge lamented, promising themselves multiple lengthy conversations about various apparitions once Keith was feeling up to it.

 

‘Dude, we’ve already been over this,’ Lance interrupted, walking up to the back of the sofa Keith lay on. ‘He already said he has no friends,’ a soft blush spread across Keith’s cheeks, making him splutter into his drink. ‘What? You did - don’t deny it now just ‘cause you’ve realised how sad it sounds,’

 

‘Lance, for quiznak’s sake, can’t you be a decent human being for once in your life?’ Pidge demanded, narrowing their eyes harshly. Lance just shrugged and turned to walk away. The guy might have been super talented, but it wasn’t hard for Lance to imagine why he had no friends - he was prickly at best, and a downright arse the rest of the time. Surely _no one_ could make their way through those dense fortifications. Except, perhaps, Pidge, who seemed quite content to sit in quiet conversation about mothman and the likelihood of mermaids being more maid or fish. 

 

However, after another twenty minutes of conversation, Keith once again wilted into the back of his seat, breathing heavily as a hand raised to grab at his chest. His eyebrows knotted down, and a low moan sounded in his throat. Looking at him in concern, Pidge nudged Lance who had settled behind them on the back of the chair. They pointed at Keith once Lance finally deigned to give his attention.

 

‘Yo, Keithy - you alright?’ he asked, a small slither of genuine concern sounding at the back of his mind - he looked like he was in a lot of pain. 

 

‘For God’s sake, that’s not my name,’ Keith hissed through clenched teeth, making Lance bite back a vicious reply; it wouldn’t be fair to shoot him down when he was in that kind of state. 

 

‘Alright, whatever,’ he conceded, raising his hands in surrender. ‘what time did you last take meds? It’s…. About half seven now - can you take more?’ 

 

Keith shook his head absently, letting it fall backwards to rest on the pillow behind him. ‘Dunno..’ He mumbled, fingers clenching worryingly at his shirt. ‘..in the folder.. it should say in there,’ he pointed weakly towards the clear plastic folder a nurse had handed him before he was discharged. It was filled with various pill bottles and prescription leaflets, as well as a medication timetable so he didn’t lose track. Leaning over to pick it up, Pidge leafed through until they found it and squinted through their lenses. 

 

‘It says… - god, this nurse needs to learn better penmanship - …you can take more. Your last lot was at half two, so really you could have taken more an hour ago. Sorry,’ they rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly, but Keith looked as though he were beyond caring. Shaking out the requisite pills - two of which Pidge recognised to be codeine, the other six, they did not - they handed them to him before motioning to Lance to grab a glass of water. Once Keith had it, he downed all of the pills in one, an uncomfortable noise slipping from his chest.

 

‘God, slow down,’ Lance said, taking the glass back from him. However, Keith still looked as though he couldn’t care about anything, and so ignored him, sliding further down into the cushions. ‘Why don’t you go sleep for a bit?’ he asked, his natural care-giver side forcing it’s way to the surface at the pitiful look on Keith’s face - despite Lance’s very best efforts. ‘While you’re asleep we’ll get some food ready - you’ve gotta be hungry, right?’

 

Keith looked at him through one eye, skepticism plain as day on his face. ‘Why are you being nice to me?’

 

Lance scoffed, affronted. ‘I’m _always_ nice!’ At the look on Pidge’s face, he changed tact. ‘…Because you look seriously sorry for yourself lying there like that, and I come from a big family - I’m used to looking after people,’

 

Keith couldn’t help the small laugh he accidentally let loose. ‘You? Looking after people? Wow, what next, yeti roaming the streets of Brisbane?’

 

‘Actually, I have a theory on that -!’ Pidge started, but Lance quickly shot a hand over their mouth to stop them before they fell into a full three-hour run down of all the possibilities - right now Keith needed sleep, not more delusions to fuel his blatant lack of brain cells. 

 

Turning to Keith, Lance flashed him a brilliant smile, sneering a little as Keith reared away from it. ‘Right then!’ He exclaimed, rushing around to the front of the sofa, arms outstretched. ‘Come to momma!’

 

Keith hit Lance surprisingly hard before letting him help him off the sofa and into his room. 

**Author's Note:**

> Was that a dramatic enough way to introduce everyone's favourite mullet?? I reckon Lance is gonna have a LOT of fun explaining this one away.. ;) 
> 
> Poor Keith just wants Shiro to come home..


End file.
